


The Fallen Angel: Warlocks and Secrets

by Jayagon5618



Series: The Fallen Angel [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Kane Chronicles - Rick Riordan, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Demons can be good too, F/M, Graphic Violence doesn't start until several chapters in, Ithuriel is a good Angel, M/M, Most of the demigods have ties to the Shadow World, Mostly Canon Pairings, Post-Tales From The Shadowhunter Academy, Post-The Blood of Olympus, Pre-The Dark Artifices, Raziel and Michael are not so much, Trials Of Apollo doesn't happen, because why not?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 04:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16010588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayagon5618/pseuds/Jayagon5618
Summary: While Percy is catching up with his old friend, Simon, his mom arrives to drop a bombshell on him regarding her involvement with the Shadow World and a dark secret. When they consult Ithuriel about it, Raziel finds out about his brother Angel's "crimes" and has him cast out of Heaven. At the same time, dark forces are stirring, and Simon's sacrifice seems like it might be the Earth's undoing. Thankfully, a mysterious warlock appears to help out, and Ithuriel can't help but notice that he has new urges outside of Heaven that seem to revolve around her. What will happen when two worlds collide?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I am not Rick Riordan or Cassandra Clare, and therefore own only my OC and the situation these characters are in. All other properties go to their respective owners.

The tunnels were pitch black, the air was damp. A lone woman moved silently toward the other end, where men waited to kill her. But she didn't go all the way. In the middle of the tunnel, she saw the light she was waiting for. Not the opening, miles ahead, but the beautiful glow of an angel. Ithuriel had not forgotten his promise, as angels never did.

"How do you fare?" The angel asked her, in his harmonious voice. Where other angels sounded like warhorns, he was as a choir.

"As well as one can, in this old tunnel. Do you have it?"

The angel chuckled, shaking his head, "Of course I have it. How could I not, when it is within me?" He sighed, drawing a small blade, too small to kill with. He then took up a cup, not a fancy chalice like his brother's Mortal Cup, but a deep one, almost a jar, that could store much. He drew the razor across his wrist, and let the cup fill up with golden blood.

"You will need to be careful on the Earth, Rusalka," he told her, preparing a syringe, "The Shadowhunters will still be able to detect you. Any child of yours will still have a mark, although it may take time to show. Twenty years, at most." He filled the syringe with the blood from the cup, leaving only a couple drops in the bottom, and she braced herself.

"I will be careful, of course," she answered him, "I am always careful. Careful as I was when I struck you, and could not bear to kill you. I will be in your debt for this gift, Ithuriel."

"I do not need debts, Rusalka," he said, "Consider it already paid, as I relish any chance to burn evil out of the world without needing to kill."

She smiled at him, although it was a demon's smile. He smiled back, and, holding her hand, plunged the syringe into her other arm. Immediately she felt both burning and freezing where the blood entered her body, glowing in her veins. She could hardly bear the pain, but she could already feel her mind growing clearer, the vile thoughts that plagued it clearing away, replaced by colorful feelings that she could not name. "Thank you, Ithuriel," she spoke through gritted teeth, "It is already working."

"As I promised it would," the angel spoke matter-of-factly, "But the full process will take nine months, as you gestate to enter the mortal world. You will have the Sight, as they call it, and you will not lose abilities nor knowledge, but your body will be human. My brethren will expect be back," he pulled out the syringe, having finished the transplant, "So we must both make haste. Remember the way to summon me back, should you ever need my help. I am not Raziel. I have compassion."

"You always have," she smiled at him, with real warmth this time. Then the world went black. She was tiny. After some time, she was twice as large, but she had no sight, no sense but her vast, millennia-old-mind. She grew in this way, and as Ithuriel said, the evil was gone from her mind by the time she was ready to emerge. She barely remembered that she must act her age before she was thrust out, into the harsh light of a strange room. What did Ithuriel say these people were called? Humans. Humans stood over her, mundanes as the Nephilim called them, or so she was told. She continued in this way, growing, learning. The humans taught strange things, facts of this world and not of the others she had seen. She never slipped up, although there was a close call when she was muttering to herself in Cthonic and a teacher heard her, not understanding the guttural sounds she uttered. She never finished this "school", though. She had grown close to her new family, and her uncle was dying, her parents already gone, and she had to take care of him. He died, too, anyway. The world was almost as black as when she left the tunnels.

Then she met him. This world had gods greater than any of the angels or demons, even the archangels or greater demons. And he was one of these gods. Poseidon. God of the sea, he told her. They had a child, and she knew that he would eventually be revealed, and he would be a demigod as well as warlock. And of course, she had a new name since her second childhood. She was Sally Jackson. Her child was Perseus. Now Perseus was older. He'd saved the world. Twice. But she felt something was wrong. She left her apartment, kissed her husband goodbye, and went to find Perseus. She saw him sitting at a cafe. Talking to a boy, with brown hair and strange tattoos. The boy pulled out a dark object, and she realized what was going on. Her son was talking to a Shadowhunter. That Shadowhunter wanted to kill her.


	2. My Life Gets Even Crazier (Percy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy finds out about his mother and Ithuriel.

I was waiting at a cafe. Simon, my old friend from school, who I'd last seen freshman year, had arranged to meet up with me. We hadn't seen each other in a long time, and I'd heard he had gone to military school. I wanted to hear about it, since I figured it can't be as intense as demigod training and going on quests. It might give me a new perspective on things. At 10:30, Simon finally showed up. He had some kind of weird tattoos on his neck and wrists, but aside from that he looked like regular old Simon Lewis, everyone's favorite nerdy bassist. He grabbed a coffee and sat down in front of me.

"So, Percy," he took a drink, "How's it going? I bet you haven't done as much crazy stuff as me since we last met."

I almost laughed at that. I'd done extremely crazy stuff since we last met, and I doubted he could come close. Tartarus was a bit more crazy than military school. "I wouldn't bet on it, Lewis. I've been up to some insane shit too."

He didn't look impressed. I wondered what he possibly could've done to really believe he'd gotten up to more interesting adventures than the guy who was on national television as a cult brainwashing victim. "Well, I still doubt it trumps my exploits. I had amnesia, forgot my best friend, and she helped me remember who I was. Although, I didn't forget everything. Just some stuff from the past few years.

My face, no doubt, visibly darkened when he mentioned amnesia. I'd forgotten everything except Annabeth and how to fight, through my entire life. He was lucky. "Why'd your band break up? Military school doesn't really seem like something you'd choose over a passion like that." I inquired, honestly wanted to know.

He seemed to think on that for a while. Eventually, he said, "It has to do with, y'know, the stuff I forgot. And my best friend."

"Speaking of which, how is Clary?" I asked him, "I haven't seen you or her for years, man."

He probably thought I didn't notice, but surprise flashed across his face when I mentioned Clary. I wasn't sure why. They had always been as close as two friends could be, why would it surprise him that I asked that? "She's good," he told me, "You see these tattoos? Me and Clary actually have matching ones, but it's under my shirt. How's Rachel?"

I wasn't sure how to respond. Rachel was still struggling with her prophecy. According to Leo, who had appeared at Camp Half-Blood atop Festus with Calypso riding behind him only a month after the battle with Gaea, Python had retaken the Oracle at Delphi at it's roots, and Zeus was too stubborn to let Apollo take care of it, since he'd blamed the archer god for the second Gigantomachy. "She's still doing art," I told Simon, kind of lamely. It really didn't explain anything that had been happening, but I couldn't exactly talk about her failing powers of prophecy. He'd call me crazy.

Simon reached for something in his pocket. It looked kind of like a phone, a sleek black rectangle, but had weird symbols on it. There was a blinking light, and he looked down the street, peering past people. "Percy, you might want to get out of here," he seemed worried, still trying to see something through the Brooklyn crowds. "Seriously," he said when I didn't move, "You really want to get out of here."

"Nonsense," I replied, "Nothing could be that bad."

He looked me dead in the eyes then, and said, "A demon coming to kill us could be that bad. I'm not joking. Now go, and forget about this meeting. It'll do you good."

A demon? I wondered. If there was some kind of monster or demon coming to attack us, I definitely wasn't going to go. But why would he know? "Demons aren't real," I lied, testing him, "That's crazy talk."

He looked over down the street, and when I followed his gaze, I saw something I definitely didn't expect to see. It was my mom. As she approached, the blinking light got faster and faster.

"Percy, that woman over there? She's not human. I fight demons, Percy. No joke. Now GO!" Simon pushed me away, but I sprang back up, pulling out my pen.

"That's my mom. She's not a demon. And I can handle myself, probably better than you can. I don't know what weird cult you belong to, Simon, but I have experience in combat. And I know my mom. I would know if it wasn't her. That's definitely her. I've dealt with shapeshifters and possessing spirits." I knew it was risky, but I had to stop him from hurting her. "That's her. No question."

"Then I'm afraid your mother is a demon," Simon's voice was cold and hard now, "And it's my job to kill demons."

I uncapped the pen. Simon jumped back in surprise as the sword grew to full length, three feet of razor-sharp celestial bronze, glowing faintly.

"Clary!" Simon yelled, "Down here, now!"

I looked around in confusion, and suddenly a flash of black, white, and red hit me from above. I threw off my assailant to see Clary, clad in dark leather and armed to the teeth, now standing next to Simon. My mother was close now, only fifty feet away.

"Percy!" she screamed, "Get away from them! Shadowhunters are nothing but trouble, especially for you or me!"

I stared at her, confused. She knew who Simon and Clary were? Why were they bad for us? I had too many questions, but suddenly a fist connected with the back of my head. I heard knuckles break, and turned to see Simon holding a bloody hand to his chest.

"What are you!?" he yelled at me, "Who are you? You're not Percy!"

"I am Percy," I told him, "And if you hit me again, you'll get more than your own retribution against yourself." I held my sword up to stop Clary from moving toward my mom.

"Percy, you have to listen to me!" my mom shrieked, "Get away from them. We can get out of this without a fight."

Clary spat at the ground, and growled, "I've never heard of a demon who doesn't want a fight. What are you?"

"She's not a demon!" I yelled, and at the same time, my mom yelled, "I am the Lost One, cleansed by Ithuriel!"

Clary looked like she'd been punched in the gut. "Ithuriel?" she almost whispered.

My mom pulled me away from Clary, and stood between the two of us. "Yes, Ithuriel. The only angel with the compassion in his heart to realize that even demons can be born not entirely evil."

I gawked at her. I wasn't sure who Ithuriel or the angels were, but I was pretty sure she'd just admitted to being a demon. And that did not sit right with me. "Mom? What are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry you had to learn this way, Percy," she said to me in her ever-soothing voice, "These Shadowhunters are right. I sought to leave the Eternal Battle, and Ithuriel had pity on me. With his blood, the inherent evil in my soul was burned away. I am a demon, yes, but I am closer to human than any other angel or demon."

I staggered away from her. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and apparently, Clary couldn't either.

"What do you mean, with Ithuriel's blood?" Clary asked, "How could he give you his blood?"

"Because he - he was kind among the angels. The angels are not a compassionate race. They lust for our destruction as much as we lust for theirs. But sometimes, angels and demons are born with the ability to feel emotions as humans do. Ithuriel and I, we both had this, and I spared him in the Eternal Battle. He repaid me by giving me his blood that the evil in my soul might be destroyed, and I could be reborn in a human body, to live in peace." my mother said, in one long breath. She looked lightened, like sharing this had lifted the weight of the sky off her shoulders. I knew how that felt.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked her.

"I couldn't. The gods themselves do not know." she seemed now to be breaking down.

I didn't know what to say. I'd never seen my mother as chaotic as she was now.

Then I felt a burning pain in my forehead, in two spots above, and slightly wider apart than, my eyebrows. I collapsed, howling in pain. I didn't know what the mortals saw. None made a move. My mom rushed to hold me up. Simon and Clary stared, confused. Suddenly I could feel something sliding out of my skin as if growing out of my skull. Clary gasped. Simon looked like an owl in headlights. My mother sobbed, grabbing something on my head, where I'd felt the pain. "Twenty years, at most..." she mumbled, tears streaming down her face.

Suddenly, the pain was gone completely, replaced with a feeling of power, power like I rarely felt before. I stood straight up, my mom jumped back, and as I held out my hands green sparks flashed between my fingers, energy coursing through my body. It took all my willpower to contain it, and the sparks stopped.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice weak. I raised a hand to my forehead and felt something protruding out.

"Your mark," my mom said, "Ithuriel told me that your mark wouldn't show up until you had grown some, twenty years at most. I have cursed you to a horrible fate, Percy. You are both demigod and warlock."

I didn't know what exactly that entailed, but she was clearly worried.

"Hold up," Simon said, walking over to me, "Did I hear something about DEMIGOD?"

"Yes," my mom answered, "Percy's father is a god. In the dimension from which angels and demons originate, there are no gods, but in this one, there are many. They are as plentiful as the angels are back home. And, I believe that Ithuriel's blood will make Percy not only demigod and warlock, but..."

Clary suddenly perked up, "Shadowhunter. Angel blood makes Shadowhunters."

My mom sniffed something, and then her eyes went wide and she stared at Clary. "You have Ithuriel's blood in you, Nephilim. How? What happened to him?"

"He..." Clary hesitated, "He was summoned and restrained by Valentine Morgenstern, my father. Valentine fed his blood to my mother while she was pregnant with me, and to the mother of my husband, Jace Lightwood-Herondale. Because of this, Jace and I have great abilities, and I can create new runes. Ithuriel had us kill him so that he could be free of his bondage."

"I doubt he is truly dead, Shadowhunter," my mom told her, "As us demons, angels have two forms. But this situation has become most interesting. Do you know any warlocks both powerful and knowledgable?"

"Magnus Bane," Simon answered her instantly. She recoiled at the name.

"The son of Asmodeus?" she asked incredulously, "Shadowhunters would interact with Magnus Bane?"

"Uh, actually," Clary stammered, "He's, um, he's-"

"Alec Lightwood's husband." Simon finished.

"That is most strange indeed," my mom said, "Things must have changed since I last observed the Earth."

Clary and Simon looked at each other. "They definitely have," Simon said.


	3. We Cause A Bit Of An Uproar (Just A Little Bit, Honest!) (Magnus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus meets a young warlock with immense power, and his demon mother, with whom he summons Ithuriel.

Magnus was bored. Sure, he loved Alec, and although he would never admit it, Max, but spending so many days with just Alec and Max got old. That's why he was glad when a knock came at the door. He kissed Alec, checked on Max (who was asleep), and went to the door. When he opened it, he suddenly wasn't so thrilled. It was Clary and Simon. Please, he though, let them just be here to see Alec or Max. I don't need another adventure.

"Magnus, we've got a problem," Clary started, immediately soiling that wish.

He sighed dramatically before asking, "What is it this time? Another evil sibling?"

"Actually, it's me," came another voice from behind the two. They parted to reveal a warlock with sea-green horns and eyes, and jet-black hair. He was tall and well-built, and was holding a three-foot glowing bronze xiphos. "Me, my mom, and an angel. But we're not walking into a bar."

For once, Magnus was actually lost for words. Angels were never part of anything small, for sure. But why did this warlock have a weapon that was clearly made of celestial bronze? This was clearly a demigod weapon. Magnus had only dealt with demigods once, and not extensively that one time, but he knew of them. It had been '78, the American Revolution. A warlock friend of his had brought him a dying demigod that they didn't have the power to heal, and he had gotten them back on their feet, ready to fight the British. That was, if Magnus recalled correctly, Alexander Hamilton, son of Athena.

"Magnus?" Simon asked, waving his hand in Magnus' face, "You in there?"

"Of course," Magnus snapped, "And what angel would this be? They're not exactly often involved in our affairs, you know."

"This one is involved in specifically our affairs," said another voice, female, "And we need to summon him."

Magnus couldn't hide his shock. "You can't just summon an angel. They'll kill everyone involved!"

"Most would. Raziel would, Michael definitely would, but not this one." the voice stepped into view, a middle-aged woman with the same raven hair as the warlock, "Ithuriel gave me his blood, and told me I was free to contact him. I am the Lost One, Magnus Bane. Rusalka."

Magnus had to think for a moment before he realize what that meant. The Lost One was a demon who had disappeared without a trace, as Magnus had learned from a couple demons he summoned after that event happened, and that happened about forty-five years ago. This woman might be about that old, and Magnus could feel her demonic energy. "I never thought much when demons I summoned were in a panic after you disappeared," he answered her, "I didn't actually recognize your name."

"That's because I never invaded Earth," Rusalka told him, "Ithuriel and I were born able to feel emotions, unlike most of our kind. Forty-five years ago, he gave me his blood that the evil in me could be burned away, and I could live in peace on this world."

"And Ithuriel would listen to me, too," Clary spoke up, "I have his blood as well, thanks to Valentine's experiments."

"Well, I suppose we should get to it, then," Magnus told the group, "Alec? I need my summoning tools. Heavy duty!"

"He's not your slave, Magnus," Simon glared at him accusingly.

"No, but he'll do what I ask anyway. And I'll do what he asks. That's how love works, Simon."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

About an hour later, they stood around a summoning circle, one fit for an angel rather than a demon. Magnus had insisted that they take precautions to prevent the angel from attacking them, even though Clary and Sally didn't like it. As Magnus finished the spell, the air in front of them heated and glowed, and a figure materialized. The angel had white skin Marked in gold, and wings with eyes on them. Magnus hadn't believed Clary when she said that angels had eyes on their wings, but apparently, she hadn't been lying. His hair was silver. He was beautiful.

"Who has summoned me?" he asked, his voice clearly surprising Clary, as it was full of harmony and beauty rather than the abrasiveness that she had ascribed to Raziel.

"I, Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, have summoned you, and with me are Clarissa Lightwood-Herondale, Simon Lovelace, Alec Lightwood, Perseus Jackson, and Rusalka, The Lost One." Magnus told the angel.

"Can you just call me Sally?" Sally asked him, indignant. At the same time, Ithuriel turned his gaze towards her, and his many eyes stretched open.

"Rusalka?" he inquired, wonder in his voice, "Is that really you?"

"Yes," she said, turned to him, "And I'm afraid I didn't heed your warning. Perseus is my son. As you can see, his mark has finally shown itself."

"You misunderstood my warning then, Rusalka," flowed the voice of Ithuriel, "I did not mean you should not have children. You have done well to bring him here, though, that he may know of the Shadow World. And Clarissa," his wings folded around him so he could see everyone, "You have honored my blood in your veins. Raziel speaks of your deeds with warmth, although I know this is one he would not approve of. Even he, it seems, is not entirely beyond compassion, but he will lose it as soon as he finds you are friends with even the kindest of demons."

Suddenly a light flashed in the image of Ithuriel, and the angel's face turned to fear. A brassy voice sounded out, louder than any warhorn, "ITHURIEL! DID YOU BELIEVE THAT YOU COULD BETRAY YOUR BROTHERS!?"

"Raziel," Clary whispered, "That's Raziel."

"I know not of what you speak, Raziel," Ithuriel answered the Angel, "I have given evil no aid."

"YOU HAVE SPARED A DEMON, ITHURIEL" Raziel shouted, "I WILL SEE YOU CAST OUT OF HEAVEN FOR THIS, AND YOU WILL NOT BE SENT TO YOUR FRIENDS IN HELL. MICHAEL HAS ALREADY DECIDED YOUR PUNISHMENT!"

Fear flashed across Ithuriel's face again, but he stayed resolute. "What would Michael have done to me? What I did to Rusalka burned away her evil, and you would do well to realize that. As I said, I have given evil no aid."

"DEMONS ARE EVIL, ITHURIEL," Raziel said, "AND SO YOU WILL BE THROWN FROM HEAVEN. YOU SHALL BE GIVEN TO EARTH, AND MY WARRIORS SHALL GIVE YOU NO GRACE. THAT IS YOUR PUNISHMENT, ITHURIEL. NOW BE GONE!"

At that, a brilliant gold light illuminated the room, and suddenly the six people standing around the circle were blasted back by an explosion. When the smoke cleared, the circle was gone, but Ithuriel remained, bleeding gold on the stones. The eyes in his wings were gone, and his feathers had turned gray. His skin was tan, and his Marks were black. The only vestige remaining of his angelic status was the fact that he had wings at all. He lay motionless except for the rise and fall of his chest. After a moment of shock, Sally rushed toward him, and Magnus prepared a spell to heal him. Clary stood still, unable to comprehend the scene before them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This'll be it for today. If you read this, please leave comments! I'll always welcome advice and opinions, and I'd love to see what people think about this.


End file.
